Deliver in the Clutch
by siriuslymerlin
Summary: Nathan Scott, all-star small forward of the Knick's, is in serious trouble. Financially. He knew he shouldn't have hired Chris Keller to be his agent. Haley James, entertainment agent, is happy. Completely. Everything is exactly how she wants it. Even if her boyfriend is getting arrested for fraud and embezzlement. Maybe this whole working together thing wouldn't be so bad.
1. Chapter 1

It started, ironically, with the best game of Nathan Scott's life. The Knicks are already on fire, with Nathan and his teammate Lucas leading the charge. They're kicking ass, and the team is almost at the done with the season, with an astounding 56 wins, and 12 games to go. Nathan's having the best season of his career, everything is going his way, with the exception of a few games.

The final buzzer sounds just as he sinks in a three-pointer, and the roar of the crowd overwhelms all of his senses. It takes until Lucas slams into, shouting happily, for him to move. The team descends, Antwon "Skillz" Taylor barreling into his left side, crowing in his ear. Jake Jagielski, the only mature one on the team, leaps onto the pile and pushes them into motion. Nathan wriggles free from the team, pausing to wave at the still screaming crowd. Everyone goes insane when does, fans leaping to their feet and snapping pics.

Eventually, the team gets herded into the locker rooms, passing the dejected Blazers. Nathan feels a little buzzed, likes he's had too much champagne. His head is reeling. This is the seventh consecutive win, and it's all thanks to him. He has about fifteen minutes before the press find their way into the locker room, so he moves fast. He throws himself into the shower and scrubs hard. His teammate's mill around, still loud and happy from the win. Nate's back in a suit before anyone else, ready to be swarmed by the press.

Just as he's walking out into the main room of the locker room, press swarm his coach. Brian "Whitey" Durham handles the press with ease, considering he's had decades of practice. The press see him, and sports reporters turn their questions to Nathan. He's not going to lie, he loves the spotlight, and he's good in it. He takes questions with ease, until one question throws him off balance.

"Mr. Scott, what will you do about your agent Chris Keller? How much money was lost? Are you financially alright?" The questions come in rapid fire succession. His smile falters and words die in his throat.

"W-what?" Suddenly the flashes of cameras is blinding, and he feels too exposed. Thankfully, before he can a fool of himself, Whitey grabs him by the shoulders and ushers him away. He's pushed into Coach's office.

"What's going on?" Nathan asks. He runs his hands through his hair, a self-soothing gesture. Whitey sighs, one of his long suffering sighs that he heaves when the team's done something wrong.

"Listen son, there's something you need to know." Whitey's got this face on like he's about to tell Nathan he's getting traded, or worse, thrown from the NBA all together. "Your agent and your lawyers were arrested tonight. At the start of the third quarter. The news spread fast."

Nathan can't really comprehend what that means, so he stays quiet.

"There's been some… financial implications, son," Whitey tells him, voice soft like he's talking to a child.

"What do you mean, financial implication? Like to me? Like I'm losing money?" Panic bubbles up into Nathan's throat. He's never really thought about money before, never worried about it because his father took care of that. Oh, god, his father.

"Dan's been arrested?" he asks dumbly.

"Yes," Whitey answers softly.

"How much money?"

"I don't know, son. You have to talk the firm. I'll handle the press." With an air of finality, Whitey offers Nathan his office phone. Peyton. He has to call Peyton, the paralegal at his father's law firm. He dials the number with fumbling fingers, shaking a little. The phone rings three times before Peyton answers, sounding frazzled.

"Law office of Dan Scott."

"Peyton, it's me. What the hell is happening?"

"Oh my god, Nathan! It's awful, the police just burst into the office and cuffed Dan. They literally dragged him out," she tells him, voice bordering on amused.

"What does this mean for me?" he hisses. None of this is funny, even if Dan got dragged off, which is a pretty great image.

"Oh, I don't know. No one even told us what for," Peyton says, apologetic this time.

"The reporters are saying fraud, embezzlement even." Peyton gasps, putting the pieces together faster than he had. He hears the clacking of keys and a sharp gasp.

"Jesus Nathan, it's a whole scheme. The accountant, everybody. Christ, this is bad."

"How bad? Just tell me," Nathan's voice is weak, and he feels far away. This is not happening. Not really. This is just some horrible, adrenaline induced dream.

"Oh, Nathan," Peyton's voice is soft, and pitying like he's never heard it before. This is bad, really bad, if Peyton's being this kind to him.

"What?" he says desperately.

"It's… fifty million. Oh my god, Nathan, I'm so sorry. Oh, god." Peyton's voice breaks and she sobs.

His head is reeling. Holy shit. Sweet Jesus Christ on a bike. That's everything. That's everything he has. Everything he's worked for, ever since college.

"Wh-what about Chris?" Peyton asks, hiccupping slightly. "Can't he do anything?

"Chris is gone. I bet you anything that bastard is behind this," Nathan snarls, suddenly angry.

"God, Nathan, what are you going to do?" Peyton ask, sobbing all the while. He deflates at the question. What is he going to do? He's broke, essentially. Peyton sniffs, hard.

"Okay, you need to call the agency. And see what this all means. But, god, Nathan, don't talk to anyone about this. It's a really big deal." Finally, Peyton's back, all sharp and logical.

"Yeah, okay," he says, before hanging up. He needs to call the agency next, and see what the hell happened to Chris, and what this means for him. He grabs his phone from his pocket and finds the number for Chris's office. He calls, and Chris's assistant picks up almost immediately.

"Nathan?" Mia says. "God, I'm so sorry."

"What the hell is going on?" He asks, for what feels like the millionth time that night.

"We've been trying to get a hold of you. The agency president wants to meet with you," she tells him.

"Yeah, I wanna know what's going to happen."

"How's tomorrow? For breakfast? The agency will take care of it," Mia assures him.

"Fine," Nathan says, curt. Suddenly, he's exhausted, like all the adrenaline has drained from his system.

00000

The biggest break of Haley's career comes with the news of her boyfriend's arrest. She's at home, watching the Knick's game, when the sportscaster, a Marvin McFadden, breaks the news of Nathan's financial plummet. At first, she doesn't think anything of it, except that it's an awful thing to happen to anyone, even an overpaid basketball star. It takes her a moment to remember that Nathan Scott is Chris's client. Chris mentions him all the time, bragging about getting into parties and meeting all kinds of celebrities. She's half convinced he's in love with Nathan, and she's always sort of resented Nathan for it.

She fumbles for her phone and calls him, knowing either way she won't reach him. He's at the game, and he never picks up on game nights. If he's been arrested, the police would have taken his phone, and no one would pick up then. It goes straight to voicemail, so she hangs up anyways. It's not like he checks messages from her anyways.

Her phones rings a bit after a minute, and she jumps, not expecting it.

"Hello?" she asks.

"Haley? It's Mia, we need to talk." Mia Catalano is Chris's assistant. She's a little young, but scary good at her job, which mainly means herding Chris. Even with how much of an asset she is, Chris only keeps her around, and hired her, because she's easy on the eyes. It's a damn shame.

"Hey, honey, what's up? What the hell is happening?" Haley asks, panic rising. Mia lets out a shaky breath.

"God, where do I begin?" she laughs a little, but it's humorless. "I guess Chris and Dan Scott had been scheming to ruin Nathan's life for a little while now. They've apparently been tying his money up in different things for years now. God, these files go back to before even I started working here. I'm on his computer now, working with an officer to get all these files over to them. Jesus Christ, it's been all here the entire fucking time! God what a dumbass, I can't believe he kept all these files here! The only smart thing he did not put any locations on here."

"Holy mother of god, I can't believe him! How does this affect me? I mean, why did you call me?" Haley's glad someone called to let her know what the hell happened, but she's a little confused as to why Mia's the one doing it. If anything, she's expecting Chris to call from the police station, begging for her to come get him.

She doesn't know why, but she loves that douchebag, for whatever reason.

"Here's the thing, Haley, the company is doing some people moving, meaning you're getting a new assistant and a new client." Mia says, sounding a little hopeful.

"Wait, what?" she says, a little dumbly.

"They're moving Nathan Scott to you, and I'm going to be your assistant," Mia tells her.

"Mia, I don't do sports. I represent artist! And the occasional actor," Haley counters.

"Yeah, but you get a new assistant!" Mia reminds her.

"Jesus, okay. Now what?" Haley asks, raking her free hand through her hair.

"Okay, listen, there's a meeting in the morning. We're trying to keep Nathan with the agency, and you're the best shot we have."

"What? I'm not a sports person! What would I even know with how to help him?"

"Haley, listen. You're god at what you do. You're the leader when it comes to securing promo deals, which is something he'll need."

"God, you sound like you've really thought this through. Maybe you should represent him," Haley chuckles, but it's nervous, bordering on hysterical.

"You know how I am in front of other people. Haley, you have to do this," Mia says, with a ring of finality. It's really too bad that Mia is painfully shy, because she'd make a kick ass agent.

"Okay, fine. Email me the details. I'll talk to you later," Haley says. They hang up, and Haley settles back on her couch.

It's not exactly her first night at home, quite the opposite. Chris really only came home to spend the night with her when he wanted to have sex, or wanted her to make something for her, or hound her for money.

It's fine that she's relieved that her boyfriend, who she loves, thank you very much, isn't coming home, right?

It's fine. All she has to do is focus on this Nathan Scott thing and wait for Chris to somehow weasel his way out of this one, like he always does.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** **Hi guys! Thanks so much for bearing with me until the next installment came out. I always start summers thinking I'll have plenty of time to write, but I always end up busy as all hell. Ah, well… With further ado, the second chapter of DITC!**

The phone rings ungodly early, jolting Haley out of a nightmare where Chris was arrested for fraud or something.

"Hello?" she says, groggy.

"Haley? It's Mia. The meeting is in an hour, remember? It's the café on the corner of 9th and 47th, Angelica's Café."

"Yeah, I remember. Already up," Haley lies, snuggling deeper into her comforter. She lives pretty close to there, it'll take her maybe ten minutes to get there. She can sleep in an extra twenty minutes.

"No, you're not. Get your ass up, you have to look professional. Nathan's going to be extra grumpy, so you have to be extra nice and convincing." She frowns at that, fully awake now.

"Anything else I should know?" Haley pulls herself up and out of bed, heading to the bathroom.

"Nathan's kind of… old fashioned," Mia says, as Haley starts brushing her teeth.

"Old fashioned, what the hell does that mean?" Haley asks through a mouthful of toothpaste.

"He… won't be expecting a girl. Much less you. Chris wasn't exactly kind when he talked about you." Haley spits and rinses.

"What do you mean? What did he say?" Hurt fills her, prickling and cold. She knew Chris could be rude, but to talk about her behind her back like that? She couldn't believe it. Whatever, she doesn't dwell on it. He was just kidding, probably.

It's sort of hard not to dwell on it.

"Uhh… never mind, it's not important. What's important is you being on you're on your A-game today. Cool? Cool, bye!" Mia hangs up the phone quickly. Haley heaves out a groan and gets in the shower. Great, like this isn't going to be hanging over her head the whole time.

Once she gets out of the shower, she stops, and looks into the mirror. What did Chris have to say? Was it about how she looked? Her personality? What?

Haley finishes getting dressed with a frown. She's put on a respectable outfit, and carefully styled her hair into a conservative bun before she stopped. Was it because she was too conservative? Was she boring? She shook her hair out and threw on a little lipstick. There! Would a boring person do that? She smirked to herself and headed out the door.

Unfortunately, she's gravely misjudged the time and was fifteen minutes late. Then, to add to her misfortune, the wind had decided to pick up as soon as she was in sight of the café, so the first thing Nathan saw was her, stumbling around, hair sticking to her lipstick. Finally when she'd gotten to the table Nathan scowls at her and slumps deeper in his seat, pouting like a child at the sight of her.

"Jesus, Mia, her? This is a bad idea! She's never done sports before! She won't know what to do at all! She has the easiest job right now!" Nathan cries. Haley's mouth drops open. God, what a child! Here he was, throwing a ridiculous tantrum in the middle of a restaurant. Haley sits back in her chair and smooths down her hair, gathering her composer.

"Nathan, please, just hear us out on this one," Mia pleads, sounding small and nervous. Nathan opens his mouth to contradict her, but Haley cuts him off smoothly.

"Mr. Scott, are you aware that you are, in fact, throwing a tantrum like a small child? Now, while I could spin that into something good, it'd be easier on you and me if you were just to _calm down_." Nathan gapes at her, before looking around and settling in his seat.

"Fine. Talk," he says tersely. Haley looks to Mia, who's suddenly interested in the menu like it was the most captivating thing she'd ever read. Poor girl, she doesn't take to hostile situations well.

"The best way to get you money back is—"

"Busting Dan and Chris's asses until I get what they owe me," Nathan interrupts, snarling. Haley sighs.

"No, that could take months. They're caught in the legal system now, and lord knows that takes forever. The best way to get you back on your feet is through promotional deals," Haley explains.

"What? Like ads? No way, I don't do shit like that. I don't like being poked and prodded and being photographed." Nathan's voice rings with a practiced finality, like he was used to getting the last word.

"Well, you'll have to, as you put it, 'do that shit' if you don't want to declare bankruptcy. Listen, getting deals is going to be easy! America loves you, and your recent tragedy makes it all the more better. People love to hear about a hero who was wronged, and worked hard to right that wrong. People eat that up," Haley tells him, in what she hoped was her most convincing voice.

"You're treating this like this's some rumor gone wild! It's my fucking money! Everything that I worked for! For almost a decade! That should mean something more than just a way to get my picture in magazines." With that, Nathan gathers his stuff and storms away, leaving the two girls with an unsigned contract.

"God! What is it with athletes? They think they can do anything they want just because thy happen to be good at tossing a ball around! I mean what good does that do? What do they contribute to society, huh? Artists spread culture and knowledge, through music, visual, and preforming arts! This is why I don't do sports!" Haley huffs, seething. Finally, the waitress comes by, dropping of food Mia and Nathan must've ordered.

"To be fair, Haley, he was kind of right," Mia starts. Haley shoots her the worst glare in her arsenal, making the younger girl wince.

"I just meant you didn't treat what happened with enough respect. It's hard on him right now he needs support. Yeah, he can be a jackass, but deep down he's a good guy, I promise! He just feels like you aren't taking this seriously enough." Haley deflates at that. God, Mia might be right. Maybe she isn't treating this whole thing with enough respect.

"Okay, yeah, you're right. Do you think if we scheduled another meeting, he might reconsider?" Haley asks.

"I don't know, but I can get you the Knick's practice schedule," Mia answers brightly.

"Thanks Mia, I'll head over when I get it," Haley thanks her. Mia jumps up and heads, presumably to send Haley the practice schedule, leaving Haley sitting there, a little sullen. Sure, it's immature for her to pout, but it's unfair that Nathan just gets to throw tantrums and Haley has to pick up the pieces after. After a minute, she deals with the bill and heads home.

Just as she gets home, her computer dings, signifying an email, meaning Mia, bless her soul, is on top of things. Haley scans the schedule, looking for this weeks practice times. There's one today, so she figures she can catch him after.

00000

Most people play badly when angry or frustrated, but Nathan plays like a fucking champ, or, at least he used to. Today, he's gotten yelled at six times for not paying attention. Whitey looks like he's going to kill Nathan, like actually murder him, _Psycho_ style. His only saving grace is Lucas, who manages to turn his every fumble into a good thing. He'd be jealous if they weren't friends.

(Okay, he's a little jealous, but that's beside the point.)

Practice ends with Whitey throwing his clip board onto the court as dramatically as he can. Lucas leans towards Nathan.

"That's the murder weapon. He's going to take the shards of that clip board and kill you in the shower, a la Norman Bates." So apparently Lucas is a mind reader now. Cool. Nathan snorts in response before schooling his features into something that'll keep Whitey from painting the court with his blood.

"Listen up, you bastards!" Whitey launches into the angriest speech that Nathan's ever heard. Jake winces every time Whitey tells them to fuck themselves, which happens practically every other insult. "This has been the worst practice I have seen in all my thirty seven years of coaching. Get the hell out of my sight!"

The boys troop dejectedly to the showers. No one wastes any time, hoping to get the hell out of there before Whitey sees them. Lucas, Skillz, and Nathan congregate by their lockers after getting showered.

"What the hell is wrong with you, man?" Skillz says as soon as Nathan is within earshot. He scowls back at him.

"It's not like you had a perfect practice either, man," he counters. Lucas sighs, grabs the both of them, and steers them out of the locker room. They make it twenty feet before Lucas whoops excitedly and dashes off. What the hell?

He launches himself at a girl and swings her around, laughing all the while. Nathan smirks until he recognizes the honey colored hair. It's not light enough to be blonde, nor is it dark enough to be consider brown either. He kind of hates it.

(No, he doesn't.)

"Guys! Get over here and meet Haley!" Lucas says, eyes lit up like goddamn Christmas tree. He can't imagine anyone being happy to see Haley.

"We've met," Nathan says tersely. Haley takes a deep breath, like he's some sort of exasperating child.

He hates her, honestly and deeply.

Lucas looks at him, wide eyed and confused. But despite his looks, Lucas is wickedly intelligent, so he figures out exactly what's happening in a few seconds. He shifts forwards, moving to block Haley from his view, protecting her, Nathan realizes belatedly. His jaw drops a little. He cannot believe, Lucas, his friend, his team member, is choosing _her_ side.

"Hi, Nathan," Haley says, giving him a forced smile. "Do you have a minute to talk? I wanted to apologize for this morning."

Wait, what?

Nathan stares at her like an idiot, until Skillz clears his throat, reminding everyone he's still there.

"Hey Skillz!" Haley gives a warm smile, real and genuine. It seems out of place with everything he knows about her. She moves past Lucas to hug Skillz, tucking her head against his chest. Nathan's insides twist a little.

"Hey, babygirl, how you doing?" he asks, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"How do you guys know her?" Nathan asks, a little defensive. Those are his friends. How is she so close to them?

"We all went to school together," Lucas explains, hooking an arm through her free arm. "First grade to college. _Les trois amis._ "

"Oh." That's all he can say. After five years of being their teammates, he's a little gob-smacked to know they have other friends besides the team, whole other _lives_.

"Wait, how do you know her?" Skillz asks him, tucking Haley's head under his chin.

"I dropped my agent, so the agency gave me her," he explains stiffly. Both boys look at him incredulously.

"Your agent was Sleazy Chris?" Comprehension dawns on them. "Sleazy Chris went to jail?!"

"Don't call him that," Haley chides from underneath both Lucas and Skillz, but it's half-hearted. She looks pitifully small next to his friends and her expression just makes her look even more pitiful. He almost feels bad for her. Almost. Haley sighs and disentangles herself from Lucas and Skillz. She squares her shoulders and looks up at him head on.

"I came here to apologize to you, for my behavior this morning. I made it seem like I was taking what happened to you, something tragic and unfair, lightly, but I want to assure you I'm not. I will do everything in my power to help you, if you'll take me." Nathan's pretty sure he looks like a damn goldfish, with his mouth hanging open and his eyes bulging.

"I… uh, yeah, okay," he mumbles, scrubbing a hand over his face and into his hair.

"Can we go over the contracts? We can do it whenever you have the time, I can move my schedule to fit yours," she tells him, half a smile adorning her face.

"I'll… uh, I'll call Mia," he says. "I have to go." With that, Nathan leaves the stadium for the second time in as many days feeling disoriented and strange. The ride back home is pretty quiet, even with his Uber driving asking him questions the whole way. Walking into his apartment is kind of surreal, because he starts cataloging all of his things, wondering how expensive everything is.

God, he's so fucked.

 **A/N:** **Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you thought in the comments, tell me what you liked, what needs help, and anything else you please!**


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